


Like Saturday mornings

by Mado



Category: The Defenders (Comic), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 13:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11692353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mado/pseuds/Mado
Summary: Five minutes of peace





	Like Saturday mornings

**Author's Note:**

> An ot4 snippet

Matt doesn't quite know what to make of the warm feeling that swells in his chest. He's on the edge of consciousness when the feeling overwhelms him. It has something to do with the warm sunshine that he can only feel streaming through the window. The sound of birds outside and the cool edge of the pillow sliding under his cheek when he moves his head. 

It smells like Saturday mornings-- like coffee and maple syrup, and a distant electric-ozone of the television before the sound of cartoons reaches through the fog of his head. Looney toons, he can only guess from the exaggerated sound effects; the volume is low out of courtesy, but it makes no difference to him.

The mattress shifts and there's an arm draped across his ribs, slim and almost delicate-- except there's a sudden strength to the pressure of the face pressed between his shoulder blades, heat spilling with a heavy breath and he catches the faint scent of oak and whiskey. 

Jessica is quick to protest being up this early. Whatever time 'early' is. Matt isn't even certain he'd remembered to set an alarm. 

There's muffled laughter from beyond the door, the kitchen maybe, with the way it seems to echo off of tile-- one deep bass and another low tenor, and that warm feeling returns to the pit of his stomach in full force.

Behind him Jess raises like the dead, the sheets bunching up, sliding away from his skin in a way that makes him shiver involuntarily, and she paws at his arm in, what he assumes, is an effort to rouse him. "Assholes." is all she grunts out, and Matt can't help but smile. Jessica Jones, portrait of a lady. 

He can hear her stomach growl though, and his almost automatically responds in kind, as if something had passed unsaid between them-- or because there was a sudden waft of bacon creeping into the room. 

They're both on their feet at the same time, groggy, swaying, but the floor is warm enough, and Jess pushes a pair of boxers into his arms. They're Danny's, he thinks, but they're clean and he's considerate enough to take the hint to pull them on-- even if they're a little too snug across his hips. Skinny bastard.

The floorboards creak under his bare feet, just a few steps behind Jessica's lazy shuffle, down the hall and into the open expanse of the brownstone apartment. It takes him a moment to read his surroundings, to take in the smell of breakfast cooking and the steady heartbeats of Danny and Luke conspiring together in the small kitchen. 

"Look who decided to join the living." Luke's voice is almost jovial, teasing, and Danny's kind laughter follows in time with Jess' protest to their cheerfulness-- though it's quickly quelled as a cup of coffee is directed her way, and then another cup is pressed into his hands like some sort of godsend, dark and rich smelling, hot between his palms and he can only mutter his own thanks before risking his tongue with a sip.

God let this be every morning for eternity.


End file.
